


Whumptober 2019: Star Wars

by Millberry_5



Series: Whumptober 2019 [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: "stay quiet.", Bound, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Decapitation, Ficlets, Fix-It of Sorts, Forced Nudity, Gen, Human shield, Humiliation, Identity Issues, Isolation, Loss of Identity, Lost - Freeform, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Order 66, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective clones, Public Humiliation, Public Nudity, Rating May Change, Scars, Secret Injury, Sick Character, Sickfic, Solitary Confinement, Time Travel, Touch-Starved, Whumptober 2019, crushed by rocks, gunpoint, he gets better though, laced drink, look the clones are huge ethics violations stuff's messed up about them, pinned down, possessive clones, reference to suicidal tendencies, shackled, yandere clones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 18:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 18,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millberry_5/pseuds/Millberry_5
Summary: I'm doing Whumptober this year! A bunch of ficlet one shots, to be specific. I'll be doing it for a few different fandoms, but I figured I'd put all of the Star Wars ones in one spot, so here they are!





	1. Touch Starvation and Clone Solutions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> day 03 - <strike>delirium</strike> alternate: touch starved
> 
> When trapped and huddling in a frozen cave, Cody, although pleased with his Jedi not being difficult for once, notices some odd behaviors.
> 
> (yes this is very mild, perhaps even arguably not whump, since we don't see the character who's hurting hurt too much, but there were no ideas for delirium and I wanted to do Touch Starved. Don't worry though, people will get hurt a lot more as the month goes on!)

Settling down for the night, confident that Waxer and Boil would keep watch just fine for the first shift, Cody allowed himself to reminisce.

He remembered, after those first few months of war, getting sent to the 212th. The awe he and his brothers had felt towards their general, their jetii.

Amazing, powerful, untouchable. Perfection made manifest. Cody had been sent to Obi-Wan after he and the Jedi order had finally given up on trying to convince the senate to talk to the Separatists, to try to avoid full scale war.

With a much larger war and far less time with politicians, his general had been given a larger army, and therefore needed more commanders.

Cody remembered some of the emotional distance being closed. Vode talking in the canteen about how their general had laughed at a joke, eventually how he had joked back at them.

Cody remembered the horror in the room when Longshot had admitted to accidentally sassing their general, then the utter awe as Longshot repeated what Obi-Wan had sassed back at him.

The general had slowly felt less untouchable emotionally. Physically, they never dared cross the line. Their jetii was far above them, most couldn’t imagine inviting him for something like strip sabacc or play wrestling. Sparring? Perhaps. But rough-housing? No.

Cody admittedly had toed the line there the most. He had frog marched Obi-Wan to the med center more than enough times, willing to drag his general if he needed to. He’d physically held Obi-Wan back from jumping out from cover to flirt with Ventress or Grevious a few times.

Seeing their commander do that sort of thing to their general also closed the emotional distance between him and Cody’s brothers. A general with vices like avoiding the medic and tendencies to flirt with the enemy were exasperating, but it made him a little more real, a little less the ideal the Kaminoans had drilled into their heads.

Like this, he was definitely a far cry from the near-mythical warrior Cody had been born and trained to serve.

They had been shot down from their transport, in the middle of winter, of course, fought off the Separatists that crashed with them, and then had barely gotten a communicator cobbled together to figure out they were too far from civilization and wouldn’t be able to be rescued until the next day.

Now, they were taking shelter in a cave, with enough lamps to be able to see, but nothing to start a fire. They were making do with electric blankets and cuddle piles.

For Cody and his vode, this was fine. They were designed to run a little hot and had been cuddling to sleep since they were cadets. The behavior had only gotten more prevalent as they were shipped out to their jetiise, who encouraged the behavior, even if they didn’t join in.

No, as friendly as they gotten with their jedi generals and commanders, they would never dare ask them to join in on this sort of thing.

Desperate times, however…

Now he was looking straight at his jetii, who was obviously trying very hard to relax from his central position.

Jag had threatened both Obi-Wan and Cody to make the man sleep at least four hours a night for the next two weeks, so he and his brothers weren’t letting the man take watch at all. 

* * *

Cody woke up four hours later as Trapper shook him awake for his shift.

They thankfully had enough brothers that they only needed to take watch for an hour.

Cody finished his shift, took off his armor, nodded at his shift-mate Click, then started picking his way towards the middle of the pile.

He shook Hex awake for his shift. Hex rolled over, making Boil grunt beside him, before taking Cody’s hand to help stand up. They nodded at each other before looking down when they heard what Cody could have sworn was a whine.

Obi-Wan had shifted away from where Hex had been, trying to take the blanket with him, even in sleep.

Cody smiled fondly at his jetii before untangling the blanket from Obi-Wan’s grip and sliding under with him. Cody heard Hex tip-toing away as Obi-Wan unconsciously tried to get away from Cody’s cave-cold blacks.

It only took two minutes for the cold to leave Cody and then Obi-Wan was torn trying to seek the warmth from him and Trout on the other side at the same time.

Cody saved his general the trouble by scooching forward, spooning up against Obi-Wan, keeping him close to both of them at the same time. His general was actually relaxed now, unlike earlier when he was trying to sleep. It was nice, if a little worrying. Cody had assumed the few times he had actually seen the general asleep, he was relaxed. Apparently not. Apparently, he was usually tense even while sleeping. Another thing to report to the medics.

* * *

When they all woke up the next morning, their general didn’t wake up with them. He had signed to Waxer and Boil to take care of the troops and to keep everyone quiet, he and Trout were going to keep the general asleep.

The smell of breakfast woke up their jetii half an hour later, but that was still enough extra sleep to be worth it.

Their general, of course, was automatically trying to stop relaxing.

“Cody?”

“Yes?”

“You can let me up, now. I shouldn’t have slept in so much. I need to-“

Obi-Wan was cut off as Cody sighed and signaled Trout to help him wrap their general in the blankets.

“Cody!”

“Don’t worry, general,” Cody said, patting their jetii’s hair, he noticed, despite the pout and offended look on his general’s face, that he leaned into the touch, “breakfast is ready. Boil and Waxer took care of camp this morning.”

Obi-Wan sputtered as he and Trout carried him over to where everyone else was eating breakfast, or just sticking around the fire.

Apparently, with the light of dawn, there were enough sticks around the outside of the cave to start a small flame. Enough to heat up some soup, at least.

Trout moved away once they set down their general, Boil and Waxer taking his place with breakfast for Obi-Wan and Cody.

Cody noticed Obi-Wan leaning into the space Trout was in as the other left. his lingering touch as Boil handed him his bowl.

“Thank you, Boil, Waxer,” Obi-Wan cleared his throat, “thank you, everyone, for making sure we all got through the night more comfortably than could have been expected otherwise.”

Cody was pretty sure the general was blushing.

A chorus of cheers, light and still a little sleepy in the early morning, responded.

This was… unusual. Their jetii was being very compliant this morning. Letting them take care of him. Only complaining for a few moments about not being given responsibilities. Thanking them instead of insisting they shouldn’t have done anything to help him.

His posture and tone as well… Cody wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Obi-Wan this relaxed. Including the few times he had gotten an appropriate amount of sleep between campaigns.

Curious, Cody tested the waters by letting himself slowly lean a little closer to their general, who had at some point redistributed the blankets they had wrapped him in to cover half of the men in the cave, and now only had one caped on his back.

Obi-Wan leaned in return, just barely, Cody wasn’t sure he noticed. Cody noticed, though, as well as how Obi-Wan’s side, already pressed up against him from the small size of circle, seemed to melt against him with the increased contact.

He noticed how Obi-Wan had to pull himself away from Cody and his brothers when they were rescued. He noticed how their jetii pulled himself together into someone that looked untouchable and infallible, that needed nothing. He even noticed how their general’s gaze lingered on whoever was closest to him walking away, a lonely look in his eye, once even a hand twitching towards a retreating body, as though wanting his men to stay close by.

This was all slightly concerning. But potentially useful.

* * *

When he finished reporting back to Jag, after they had all been rescued, warmed up properly, and checked over, Jag just stared at him for a few moments.

That was never a good sign during their general-Kenobi-is-ridiculous-what-do-we-need-to-do-to-keep-him-alive-and-not-hurting-too-much discussions.

Finally, Jag threw his head back and let his exasperated voice ring through the empty medical office they had quarantined themselves in.

“Kriiiiiiiiiiiff.”

Cody raised an eyebrow at the medic’s dramatics, waiting.

When Jag was done performing, he looked back at Cody and simply offered, “he’s touch starved.”

“Touch? Starved?” it wasn’t something Cody had heard of before. But getting the general to not overwork himself into food starvation hard enough. How could one be starved of touching? And how was he supposed to stop it?

Jag looked at him, curious, for a few moments before obviously thinking of something.

“Oh wait, you would have been a batch or two late for that. You know how the Kaminoans don't like us to do some things?" That was an understatement, "when they first found out we sometimes shared bunks, they said they would have to recondition whole batches if we didn't stop," Cody shuddered at that thought, "They eventually relented. Rumor is that Fett himself chewed them out and told them they'd be damaging us if they made us stop. Everyone in those batches and all medics got a debrief that he wrote about touch starvation, at least. Basically, most sentient species, like… at least ninety percent, definitely more, need a certain amount of friendly touches to stimulate the brain correctly, make enough of the right hormones. If you don’t get enough, you’re touch starved.”

“Meaning?”

“Our general has probably been experiencing increased stress, decreased mood, increased heart rate and blood pressure, a few other grab bag symptoms, nothing good. And especially nothing helpful, with a war going on. And yes, this is probably effecting his capabilities as a general.”

“Kriff.”

“That’s what I said,” Jag deadpanned.

Cody rolled his eyes.

“So. We need to do something.”

“Indeed. Your descriptions of his response to being forced into close contact with you and the others is a bit worrisome, but his response once he let himself relax is promising…”

“We’re going to have to trick him into letting us touch him, aren’t we?”

“Probably. So let’s get planning.”

Cody sighed as he and Jag started plotting. Obi-Wan wasn’t perfect, or untouchable. Apparently the opposite for touch. But Obi-Wan was theirs. And any idolization that got chipped away seemed to be replaced three-fold by their affection for him.

He was their jetii, and they would take care of him. Negotiator persona or not. Willing to let them or not. Vode b’jetii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
Jetii - Jedi  
Jetiise - Jedi (plural)  
Vode b'jetii - the brothers' Jedi
> 
> Everything's also going to posted on my Tumblr: the-writing-mill.tumblr.com


	2. Clone Shielding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 04 - Human shield
> 
> Ventress uses Cody as a shield to retreat. His general makes sure he survives, which lets Ventress get away. This is not Cody's ideal situation.

“Not another step, Kenobi,” Ventress hissed, lightsaber humming so close, Cody swore he could feel it shocking his blacks, “or you lose this clone as well.”

Cody watched his general appraise the situation. Both sides had been whittled down so that Ventress had to retreat or die and they were going to win the battle, but with too few forces to be able to chase Ventress down. Especially since he, Obi-Wan, and a few brothers had been separated from the rest with Ventress into a crashed ship. Half of their small squad was down for the count, and Cody wasn’t sure they would all get back up. That left him, Obi-Wan, and six other brothers against Ventress, who had him, weaponless and with a dislocated shoulder, pinned to her chest and her lightsaber at his neck.

But with him being held hostage, Ventress couldn’t move very quickly.

It would be easy. The last six brothers already covered 240 degrees around them. Obi-Wan was in better condition than Ventress.

They didn’t have the resources to chase her, no. But the lack of mobility was a mistake on her part. And if he was going to go marching far away, this was a good way to go. Over a year past the average life expectancy. For the sake of killing one of the Separatists’ best killers.

He saw his general’s eyes flicker back over to meet his through the helmet. Cody would have nodded if he could.

“You realize, Ventress, my dear, that you don’t have the best track record with hostages?” His general finally drawled, voice purposefully even.

Cody could imagine the steely look in his eyes, the one that he hid beneath whatever act he was putting on over his, well… not anger, since Jedi don’t get angry.

He heard his brothers shift their weight just a bit, saw Longshot hold his blaster just a little more aggressively next to their general.

“I don’t think you and your clones are in a very good position to critique my combat strategies, but perhaps you’ve finally realized that your mouth is the most competent thing about you,” Ventress snarled.

In a moment, he saw his general use the hand not holding his saber to sign at him.

_Drop_

Cody did so immediately, letting all of his muscles relax and making his legs give out. Not questioning the order.

Ventress was pulled down a bit but didn’t bother to slice his neck for the action.

No, she was far too busy trying to keep her balance and moving her saber to block his general.

Cody rolled out of the way and dashed over to longshot, taking the backup hand blaster out of the other’s leg holster.

They all shot when they could, used to their general’s movements, and fired freely once Ventress disengaged and started running down the hall.

Then the kriffing sith jumped out of a hole in the crashed ships’ wall, and their general ordered a retreat.

Back at camp, once everyone had been checked over by medics, once the dead had been counted and buried, once the general gave another rousing speech about duty and how they have saved yet another planet from Separatist tyranny that lifts the mood so the men will celebrate, Cody and Obi-Wan retreated back to the tent they were sharing for an office and started on the basic paperwork.

Or at least, that was what they would usually do.

Instead, Cody stayed standing by the tent entrance, bucket still on.

He saw Obi-Wan sigh before clearing off a space on his desk and sitting down, elbows on the desk, hands clasped, chin resting on his hands.

“What’s wrong, Cody? You’ve been… tense, since we dealt with Ventress,” his jedi implored.

Cody stalked forward, tore off his helmet, and nearly slammed it onto Obi-Wan’s desk.

“I don’t think I’d call that “dealing” with Ventress, sir,” he said brusquely.

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan actually looked confused at that.

“I mean you could have finally killed her, sir!” Cody spilled out, “With me as hostage, she was practically immobile! Surely you noticed you could have ordered the others to shoot, distracting and injuring, then gone in for the kill yourself!”

Obi-Wan looked taken aback, almost horrified, at that.

“Yes. Yes, I could have done that,” he said, quietly, softly, “And that would have killed you, Cody.”

“And how many of my brothers are going to die because you didn’t kill her today, sir?!” Cody asked, internally horrified at critiquing and yelling at his superior as soon as he said it, but unable to stop himself, “I am here to serve you and the Republic, general. If that means dying to stop the Separatists, then so be it. You should know that by now. You should have- I should have-“

Cody broke himself off from his rant, unsure of what he was saying anymore, or what Obi-Wan’s carefully neutral face meant.

“Cody?” the general said, soft, “did you want her to kill you?”

Oh.

No, that wasn’t what he meant. It really wasn’t. But his general had every right to think that.

He saw Obi-Wan glance at the other chair and Cody complied with the request, grabbing the chair and sitting across from his general. Willing himself to calm down.

“No. No sir, I was not hoping to die. But I was… I have always been willing to die, for the sake of the Republic.” His general understood that, right?

“I know, Cody, but sometimes, in hard situations - and what is war but hard situation on top of hard situation? – there is not good answer. And certainly no right answer. Please answer me honestly, would you prefer to serve under a general who will order your brothers to fire on each other, or one who doesn’t?”

Cody flinched, he’d heard stories about some of the non-jedi generals. About their lack of care for his brothers and their lives.

“Of course I don’t want a general who does those things, but in this case-”

“It’s different?” his general cut him off, “Or it’s worth it?”

Cody didn’t bother hiding his face. Whatever emotion he was showing was more easily understood through the force by the being in front of him. Obi-Wan sighed.

“Where’s the line, Cody? What counts as too far, for the senate, for the war, for who I am as a jedi? Should I not bother to block a tank’s shell from hitting a squad because I could instead run closer to Grievous? Should I make battle plans that risk friendly fire in every encounter?”

Cody rolled his eyes, he knew that his general would never do that. Most of the non-jedi generals wouldn’t either, those risks were inefficient use of resources.

“Should I send in Waxer to scout with a comm, on a mission where he can get valuable information but likely won’t be able to escape? That would let us make battle plans that cost far fewer lives, and only cost me one of your brothers,” the general said in a hard tone. Cody couldn’t help bristle at that hypothetical.

“There is no perfect answer to most battles, Cody. You know that, right?”

“Yes, sir. I do,” he replied evenly. It was true. There was a reason he had made it up to marshal commander.

“Then please, Cody, in the interest of us being able to make imperfect decisions that we can still live with, please never ask me to kill you again,” his jedi begged, tone letting a bit of desperation in.

And that felt like punch to Cody’s gut. No wonder Obi-Wan had looked horrified earlier.

“Sorry, sir. I just…” Cody trailed off, not able to figure out what to say. Not able to tear away from Obi-Wan’s pleading eyes either, so he watched them softening, a little nod, empathetic.

“I don’t want anyone else to die,” he choked out, trying to maintain some composure but largely failing, “and it seems like we’re never enough and I just want for this war to be over without losing any more brothers and I’m not sure what I’m willing to do, but dying’s easy. We’re really good at dying so if that’s what-“ Cody shut his mouth to stop himself from sobbing.

Obi-Wan reached out towards him before aborting the gesture, uncertainty on his face.

Cody let out a broken laugh at that, “don’t worry, sir. If it was Rex, he would have had me in a headlock by now and wrestled me to the ground. Wouldn’t have stopped hugging me for an hour,” Obi-Wan breathed a laugh through his nose at the image then slowly put a hand on Cody’s arm. It was stable and grounding in a way Cody would have bet alcohol on it being some sort of force technique. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to die, sir. And I won’t ask you to kill me. I promise. I just can’t always figure out how to win without dying.”

“Cody…” the hand squeezed lightly as Obi-Wan thought of what he wanted to say, “I’m so sorry.”

For Ventress today. For Ventress everyday. For the war. For the brothers he had lost and would lose. For how much all of this was hurting him. For neither of them being able to fix it. There were a lot things his jedi was apologizing for. And Cody couldn’t find anything right to say in reply.

Instead, he just bent his head and lightly rested his hand on top of Obi-Wan’s on his arm, keeping them there in silent vigil for everything gone wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline wise, this occurs once the clone wars have been going on for a while, and before Umbara.


	3. Gunpoint is Not a Good Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 05 - Gunpoint
> 
> I wonder what it says about me that saw a prompt for "gunpoint" and then whumped both the person at gunpoint (psychologically) and the one holding the gun (much more physically and permanently)

Obi-Wan froze as the togruta he had been sharing drinks with lifted a blaster to his stomach, under the bar so it wasn’t immediately noticeable.

He had assumed the warning in the force was for the more obvious group of smugglers across the room that he had therefore been paying attention to, rather than the man that, if he was actually a bounty hunter, had to be fairly new in the game.

He tried keep his voice calm, because this was too risky a situation to draw any attention to.

“If you would please put that away, I think you will find it far more beneficial to you than pointing it at me.”

“Good luck with that, jedi. Separatists are willing to pay a lot for you. Not sure why, if you’re so easy to capture,” the man sneered.

“You haven’t actually captured me, though. Pulling out a blaster isn’t particularly hard. But actually keeping me down is something that even Count Dooku has trouble with,” it was a fact of life that Obi-Wan didn’t always keep his mouth shut when he could instead sass other beings.

It usually worked better though, when he could use a mind trick to persuade people away. As it was, the temple healers had been very explicit about what would happen and what they would do to him if he gave himself another bout acute force exhaustion without recovering on this leave.

Since he couldn’t use any direct force applications, however, his words truly did only serve to annoy the togruta into growling and shoving the blaster into Obi-Wan’s stomach and he felt a flash of alarm in the force and kriff. This wasn’t good.

“Please. For your own sake, just leave now,” Obi-Wan said, voice a little more tense, but still calm.

He saw one of his men across the room, to the togruta’s back, type something into a comm while the other four at the table slowly stood while putting their buckets back on.

“Does that seriously ever work for you? Do you seriously think I’ll give up the upper hand that easily?” the other hissed.

“You’re mistaken if you think you have the upper hand. Believe it or not, you are surrounded. But you haven’t really done anything, so please leave before it’s too late for you,” Obi-Wan said seriously.

Obi-Wan saw a flash of white and gold outside the cantina and acted before the rookie bounty hunter could do more than scoff.

He knocked the blaster hand aside and up into the underside of the bar, holding onto the blaster and hand as the togruta yelped in pain.

A shot fired into the bar, cheap board, and hit a cabinet on the other side.

He distantly registered a scream and the sounds of doors opening and people running through them.

In the next moment, Obi-Wan had the other pinned to the bar by his wrist and shoulder. He quickly took the blaster away and pushed himself back, bringing the weapon up to the togruta’s chest.

The bounty hunter didn’t seem to see the blaster, or else didn’t care, as he rose and lunged towards Obi-Wan.

Cody, apparently back from the bathroom, body slammed Obi-Wan’s assailant before he could dodge.

Two more men followed. Then a third joined the pile with restraints.

Within moments they were all standing, the togruta with his hands behind his back, in the middle of a three-man formation as Cody walked the two steps over to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan breathed out a sigh of relief at everyone’s alive and unharmed states.

“Are you all right, general?” Cody asked as the others started to push the bounty hunter to the cantina’s very clear exit. Besides him, his men, and the togruta, everyone had fled, it seemed.

“Yes, Cody, I’m fine, he didn’t-” Obi-Wan cut himself off as he heard the togruta start to struggle and a vod cried out.

Obi-Wan turned to see the rookie make a break for it and run in a straight line for the door.

He made it two steps before a dozen blaster shots dropped him to the floor, dead.

“You didn’t have to kill him!” he cried out, still not sure what else to do in this kind of situation.

“All due respect, general, it was definitely better that we did,” Waxer said as he lowered his blaster, “he was obviously an up and coming separatist operative,” oh fantastic, they had bugged him again, “and had enough stealth to get too close to you-“

“I was very obviously fine and able to deal with him without killing him!”

“and letting him go would have been a liability. He also was unlikely to have anything of value, intel wise, beyond the fact that the Sepratists have a bounty out on you specifically, but we already knew that. So there were only cons to keeping him alive,” Waxer finished, ignoring his interjection.

“He also-“

“Had you at gunpoint, sir,” Cody interrupted, clamping a hand down on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, “He also had a jedi at gunpoint on a Republic planet during a war in which you lead Republic forces. He could have predicted this outcome easily. And once again, he had our Jedi at gunpoint,” Cody said, in a tone that Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t change his mind.

Still, he had to try.

“But-”

“Negotiator will be ready to leave in twenty,” Boil said as he entered the cantina, glancing at the body at the floor. Obi-Wan felt a small wave of angry satisfaction roll through the force.

“Right. Let’s get the general back to the temple, we’ll be taking the rest of this leave on Coruscant,” Cody said casually, but firmly. Completely assured that the men would take care of the body and self-extraction, leaving him to drag Obi-Wan to the transport ship.

Obi-Wan went along after only a few feet of being dragged, still feeling a bad taste in his mouth for the murder.

He knew that the 212th were only going to allow him on their ships, battlefields, and in the temple for the next few months and resigned himself to their protection.

Maybe it would be better if he only stayed in those places, anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I offer no apologies for effing up the vode this much.


	4. Isolation, It's for Your Own Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Integration alternate version, divergence is after Obi-Wan gives up the coup, except instead of waking up in Jango's room, he wakes up in solitary confinement. This will not make much sense if you haven't read Integration, sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm behind and catching up. Please bear with me.  
Also, I'm out of clever titles... -_-

When Obi-Wan regained consciousness, his brain took a moment to fully wake up. When he remembered what he had done, Obi-Wan automatically felt out with the force, trying to figure out how much trouble he was in.

But there was nothing. Nothing but himself.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes slowly to see an unfamiliar room.

It was… dim. Half-lit from a few inset lights in the floor and ceiling. The walls were light grey and padded. And apparently more force null than his last room’s.

The cot he was on was sticking out from the wall as a light grey plastoid rectangle, with rounded edges and light grey sheets.

He couldn’t see anything else. Not even a door.

Jango had said he’d be punished, but not killed. Maybe this was part of it? Or was this just a holding cell for until he was supposed to testify at whatever trial the coup got?

Obi-Wan sat up slowly, jerking to look at one corner when he heard a light hissing. A toilet and sink were now popped out of the wall. Also light grey.

There was nothing else.

Well, except his clothes. Which were definitely not what he had selected at any point in his life. Dark blue, a bit baggy, soft. Sleep clothes, Mandalorian style, most likely.

After about an hour, Obi-Wan got up and paced the room.

After half an hour of that, he sat back down on the bed.

An hour after that, as he lounged on the cot, he saw some panel in the smooth ceiling lower, bringing down a tray of food.

Twenty minutes later, the panel lowered again, and Obi-Wan put his empty tray on it.

* * *

The lighting didn’t change, even as Obi-Wan meditated through what his body thought was night.

He got two meals the next day. Spent all the other hours pacing and meditating.

On the coup. On what has happened. On possibilities moving forward. On what exactly this solitary confinement would entail.

He meditated instead of sleeping again.

* * *

Three meals the next day. More mediation, more pacing. He let himself fall asleep that night.

* * *

Two days after, with still no changes, but even more sporadic meal times (he’s pretty sure that the distance between getting fed is different each time. His stomach can’t quite adjust, and he’s starting to lose track of hours), he decided to be stubborn.

When the panel came down to put his tray back Obi-Wan refused.

After a minute, gas filled the room.

He woke up, some unknown time later, to see no tray, and nothing else changed.

* * *

After that, he really began to lose track of time. It didn’t help that his meals didn’t seem divided into any normal breakfast, lunch, or dinner foods, let alone times. And the lights never changed. He wasn’t sure when to sleep. His body didn’t seem to particularly care anymore.

* * *

Eventually, he fell into a new pattern. Get up, eat, pace, meditate, either go back to sleep or eat, repeat.

* * *

Obi-Wan opened his eyes again. To see light grey swarm his vision. Again.

He got up and ate his food when it was delivered, then went back onto the cot and let himself nap again. He hadn’t been able to find anything to meditate on for the last few cycles.

* * *

His world was light grey. A bit of color in his clothes, the blue still somewhat comforting. A bit of color and variation in his food, the only interesting thing in the room. And nothing else.

* * *

Obi-Wan couldn’t particularly bring himself to move for a moment when the lighting brightened. Then his brain registered the new stimulus, and some part of his brain knew he’d needed this kind of thing for a while, but Obi-Wan couldn’t focus on that right now, and he sat up faster than he remembered doing for a long time.

A humanoid at the door. Which hadn’t existed before. It took a moment for Obi-Wan to register that it was Jango.

The man walked into the room, until he was standing in front of Obi-Wan, then reached out and put his hand on Obi-Wan’s cheek. Obi-Wan closed his eyes at the sensation, it was a lot to deal with after… after…

“_Are you ready to come out now?_” Jango’s voice startled him out of trying to think, louder than anything he’d heard in a long time.

Obi-Wan licked his lips and swallowed before attempting to speak, “_Out?_” oh, his voice was a bit raspy. He hadn’t spoken once while in the grey room. He hadn’t seen the point.

Jango removed his hand and Obi-Wan felt himself start to chase it before stopping himself and opening his eyes.

“_Yes, you needed time by yourself, to get rid of the traitors’ influence,” _Traitors? Oh, right, the coup. They had tried to kill children. Why had he ever listened to them? _“Are you ready to come out and finish becoming Mandalorian now? Or do you need more time in here?”_ Jango asked. Obi-Wan felt himself stiffen at the idea of staying in the room. But on the other hand…

_“I do not… know if I can. I think I might be slow now. It took me very long, yes?”_ Kriff, what day was it? How long had he been in here?

A hand started running through his hair. Obi-Wan shuddered at the new, unexpected sensation.

It was not unpleasant, once he got over how **_much _**it was.

“_Don’t worry,”_ Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Jango smiling at him, “_we have a special track planned out to get you reintegrated as quickly as possible. You’ll be working at your own pace. With a few extra bits so that this doesn’t need to happen again.”_ Jango kept petting his hair for a few more moments as Obi-Wan absorbed that information.

“_So, are you ready? Do you want to come back out now, or do you want more time in here?”_ Jango asked. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but whine.

“_Out. Please. Don’t like here. Will try hard outside,”_ Obi-Wan promised, desperate.

Jango chuckled before he stopped petting Obi-Wan, quickly moving to help the man up from his cot.

“_Don’t worry, I know you will_,” Jango reassured him as he led Obi-Wan towards the door. Obi-Wan didn’t need support Jango was forcing him to put on the other man’s body, but he went along with it.

But then they were out in the hall, which was too bright, but at least it wasn’t **_grey_**, and Obi-Wan was very glad for the support as Jango let him turn further and hide his face in Jango’s neck.

Almost as glad as he was to follow Jango from the room, to wherever the man was leading him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italic dialogue is in Mando'a, hence why Obi-Wan isn't speaking the best at the end. He's a month out of practice lol


	5. Shackled Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 09 - Shackled
> 
> In which the first battle of Genosis went a little differently.

Obi-Wan stirred when he heard the familiar clanking of the door. The clicks as the various locking mechanisms separated until the cool hiss of outside pressure could sneak through the half-second before it opened.

He also distantly registered a few other noises. Thumps and booms and what might have been yells and screams and blaster fire.

Those noises made him startle the rest of the way awake, moving more than he had bothered to for a long time.

He winced as the movement pulled on his shackles, wrists and ankles. The wrists in particular rubbed hard against the bone, barely covered by flesh. He had lost any muscle there long ago.

His attention was redirected as boots hurried into the hall. Far too heavy and rushed to be Dooku coming back for another round of “coaxing”. It was still a day or two before the count would be willing to bother himself with Obi-Wan again, anyways.

The figure that appeared in front of his cell a moment later was familiar.

Jango Fett. In all his determined, Mandalorian, blue-silver-armored glory. He saw the other stutter in his step as he took in Obi-Wan’s condition. He presumed the man felt similar in the force, not that he could tell with the collar.

He did however, hear Fett curse as he moved to the panel beside his cell to undo the ray shields.

Interesting. This wasn’t a Separatist sanctioned visit, then.

Obi-Wan watched the bounty hunter finish deactivating the ray shields before moving into the cell. He was hurrying, but not panicking. Obi-Wan didn’t have the energy to do anything but continue watching.

Fett managed to get the shackles off his ankles, and Obi-Wan blankly looked down to see the discolored bands left on his skin where it had been rubbed raw.

He found himself unable to muster up care about the likely scarring. He was far past caring about most things at this point in his captivity.

Fett was working on his left wrist, harder with it being held above their heads, when the man swore again and brought his arm down to adjust something on his wrist guards.

Obi-Wan felt a little bit of what he thought was surprise when Fett went back to work with a laser cutter.

A few seconds later, Obi-Wan was standing with nothing but his own body weight in what had almost been a year, if he had managed to keep track correctly.

And then his legs were giving out.

Fett quickly caught him and started dragging him out, his arm across the more mobile man’s shoulders. He tried to walk alongside, but barely managed to stumble along with the other man.

“Come on, kriffing jetii, we’re almost out, there’s no point in dying on this dustball,” Fett muttered supportively, echoing what Obi-Wan had told him the last time they saw each other. When they had seen Fett’s little boy looking into the arena and Obi-Wan had let the Mandalorian go.

They soon got to a side entrance and Obi-Wan had to squint as they approached, too used to the dim lighting of his underground prison.

And the almost silence.

It was so bright and loud outside. He had forgotten.

Obi-Wan had to lean on Fett more as he took a moment to try to adjust.

It was probably a good thing that he still couldn’t feel the force.

Fett was moving them quickly through the landscape. The battle sounded close, but they obviously weren’t in the thick of it.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes a sliver as he hears another person approach, boots thundering on the ground.

“You got him?” Fett asked gruffly as Obi-Wan felt his other arm get lifted and slung across another set of shoulders, this time belonging to a clone with gold painted armor.

“Yes, sir,” the clone automatically responded as the two men finished transferring Obi-Wan’s weight between them.

“Good. Remember, so long as he’s rescued, you all don’t come looking for me,” Fett said, which was apparently his way of saying goodbye, because he turned away from the battle as soon as he lost contact with Obi-Wan and started stalking away.

Obi-Wan watched him go until he took off with his jetpack, before switching his attention to the man now doing his best to drag Obi-Wan to a transport ship.

“Thank you,” he rasped out.

The helmet tilted towards him.

“Of course, sir, let’s get you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, yes, I'm back on this. Had a rough week and now I'm catching up!
> 
> I also had zero (0) chapter title ideas, so please beam me some in the comments if you come up with anything T_T


	6. Nightmares are Dime a Dozen, Jedi-General-Friends are Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 <strike>Stitches</strike> – Nightmare
> 
> Hi! I like to psychologically torture Cody! I'm not sure why, but at least I like to comfort him after! :D

Obi-Wan sighed as he felt the now-restless energy of his commander awake, dislodging him from his light sleep.

Alas, this sort of thing happened when you spent so long around someone in such high-stakes high-emotion situations. You became attuned to them.

And this was the third time this week that Obi-Wan felt his commander do this. Not even he was this bad with sleep.

Obi-Wan waited a few minutes before following. Apparently it was the shooting range tonight.

Obi-Wan watched from the viewer’s window as his commander fired shot after shot into the targets. He saw Cody curse as he missed a few.

The simulation was set at one of the harder levels designed for squads to practice holding positions.

Obi-Wan waited until the exercise was over and Cody was scrolling through simulations before he entered.

Cody whirled and Obi-Wan noticed his eyes widening as soon as he registered who had entered the range.

Obi-Wan had to work far less at noticing Cody immediately trying to get his uncharged blaster as far away as possible from the both of them by slinging it across the room.

They both stared at each other in shock as the sound of the blaster bouncing across the floor echoed throughout the room.

“General, sir!” Cody barked, immediately going into a tense salute like Obi-Wan hadn’t seen since the first month they’d known each other.

He just raised an eyebrow in response. They both knew that the vode hated being unarmed, always avoided it when possible. For Cody to be so stressed he wasn’t sleeping was one thing. To be so distressed that he unarmed himself was another.

“I- I…” Cody tried to explain himself but couldn’t seem to manage it.

“You haven’t been sleeping well lately, commander. If at all. Is there a reason for that?” Obi-Wan prodded, perhaps starting with something less egregious would help.

“Just… nightmares, sir, nothing I can’t handle,” his commander deflected. Which might have worked better if Obi-Wan hadn’t taught Cody most of what he knew about deflecting.

“We’re in a war, Cody. We’ve been in thick of it for some time now. What exactly changed to make it so distressing?”

“It’s just the bad ones, sir. They’ve been getting more frequent lately and I need to blow off steam after them,” Cody responded, still not willing to relax into using his name.

“The bad ones?” Obi-Wan prodded.

Cody shivered, both physically and in the force, before steeling himself.

“The most common reoccurring dream I have is where I- where. Sir. Where I…” Cody was holding perfect parade rest. Shaking.

He swallowed. Obi-Wan could still feel a nauseous mix of guilt and fear emanating from him.

“Where I, uh,” Cody reached up and scratched his temple, “I shoot… where I shoot Jedi. Sir. I’m sorry,” Cody continued.

Obi-Wan carefully crossed over to Cody, no longer surprised at the man throwing his blaster away, and laid a hand on Cody’s arm, carefully telegraphing the move.

“Cody.”

Just saying his name seemed to break a dam and in a second Obi-Wan was following Cody down to the floor as the man seemed to shake even worse while he rubbed his eyes and temple with frustrated vigor.

“Half the time it’s generic. Blue and green and sometimes yellow or purple lightsabers. Half the time it’s you. Commander Tano’s been showing up as well recently,” Cody confessed, sounding angry and helpless in a way that Obi-Wan usually only felt from the man on the hardest of campaigns.

“Okay. Okay, thank you for telling me, Cody. And don’t worry, dreams pass in time,” Obi-Wan soothed. Given the spike of anger and frustration that came after those words, Obi-Wan near-instantly regretted saying them.

“That doesn’t matter if they’re effecting me now, Obi-Wan! I can’t sleep. If I can I can’t rest. I can hardly even look at you without imagining raising a blaster at you. How can I be your functioning commander if I’m like this?!” Cody demanded as he held the right side of his head in a vise, a tad hysteric.

Obi-Wan slung an arm around his friend as the other broke down further, waiting for Cody to collect himself, pretending not to see, as silly as it seemed.

“Sorry, Obi-Wan, sir. I don’t… I want to protect you. I don’t like these dreams, I don’t like any dream that compromises that,” Cody explained, reaching up to rub his right temple again, “I’ll go see the medics about it, maybe? Maybe they have something to get rid of dreams.”

Cody seemed to not want talk about it anymore, closing himself off in the force as he was, so Obi-Wan decided to drop it for now. He’d ask his friend again after he had gone to the medics and had some time to calm down.

“All right, while you're there, maybe something for you head, as well,” Obi-Wan joked dryly, before continuing at the stirring of confusion in the force, “you’ve been touching your head an unusual amount tonight, commander Cody, especially your right temple,” Obi-Wan explained, pointing at the area Cody had been focusing on this whole conversation. Very different from his usual nervous tics.

Cody froze at the comment, though, which Obi-Wan had not expected.

“Do you think… Obi-Wan, it might be my chip. Maybe Kamino got the programming a bit wrong, or it’s defective, and that’s causing these dreams?” Cody asked, hopeful, “If it’s the chip, then it’s not my fault something’s wrong and they can fix it, right?” he continued, obviously looking for validation.

Obi-Wan was too stuck on earlier parts of Cody’s questions to notice, however, and instead moved so he was crouched in front of Cody, hands on the other’s shoulders, looking right into each other’s eyes.

“Cody? What chip?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, this is a set up for a fix-it AU I will never write.


	7. Don't Try to Move My Opinion of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 - "Don't move"
> 
> In which Jango is coming off a job gone wrong (unusual) and Obi-Wan's coming off a mission gone smoothly (even more unusual)

Obi-Wan stepped out of the hotel, glancing up at the darkened sky, and pulled the hood of his robe up. He likely had less than half an hour before it rained to try to get to the ship he was taking to Alderaan, so he could finally get back to Coruscant after a month-long mission.

Obi-Wan started down the streets and was honestly more surprised than he should have been when he was pulled into an alley, pushed against a wall, and felt a blaster poke into his back.

His mission had gone far too smoothly.

“Don’t move,” came the gruff order from whoever was behind him.

Obi-Wan breathed carefully, complying as he reached into the force.

One person. Just one person. Humanoid, holding the blaster with their right hand. Desperate, determined, anxious, tired, hurt. Heavily injured.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes as the being behind him spoke again, “your clothes. Now.”

Instead of complying again, Obi-Wan pulled the blaster to the right with the force while sliding to the left, allowing the shot to go flying into the alley wall. It was the work of a few seconds to continue his momentum into a spin, step forward, hook his ankle behind his assailant’s, and sweep the leg forward as he pushed on the other’s shoulder and wrist, taking him down.

Obi-Wan held onto the wrist holding the blaster a little tighter when he recognized the silver and blue armor as Mandalorian.

Certainly conspicuous in this peaceful little city. That explained why he wanted the clothes.

The Mandalorian started to struggle and Obi-Wan held fast as he commented, “as strong of fighters as Mandalorians tend to be, Jedi are no push overs either. Not to mention I have the benefit of being uninjured and well rested.”

The Mandalorian beneath him froze before growling and jerking his hips and legs up.

Obi-Wan didn’t want to get flipped onto his back, so he opted to roll away, making sure to grab the other’s blaster while he was at it.

The Mandalorian paused at their new positions. Both standing, but with Obi-Wan aiming the weapon this time.

Well, somewhat standing. The Mandalorian had a hand braced against the wall.

“The fact that you’re looking for a clothes swap while injured, of course, indicates that you’re being chased,” Obi-Wan drawled, “And your emotions in the force would indicate that you are very much worried and hurried to stop the chase.”

“I have other obligations that I need to attend to,” the Mandalorian said, voice harsh. The anxiety flared as he said it, which made Obi-Wan pause.

“Obligations that you don’t want to draw attention to? That you don’t want traced back to you, or traced to from you, that you’re worried about?” Obi-Wan prodded.

A flash of protectiveness dashed through the force. Fierce. Which… well, a Mandalorian…

“A child,” Obi-Wan whispered, lowering the blaster. The Mandalorian bristled, confirming Obi-Wan’s guess.

He really was going to get himself killed, he thought as he disrobed and flipped his grip so he could hold the blaster’s handle out to the person who had held it against his back nearly a minute ago.

He could practically taste the other’s distrust as the blaster was taken back and Obi-Wan shifted behind, forcing the armored figure into his robe.

“What are you doing?” another question turned demand.

“Getting you back to your child,” he responded as he moved back to the front, pulling up the hood and beginning to close the front of the robe. A bit tight with all the armor, thank goodness the outer robe was always so baggy, but it would be good enough with Obi-Wan right there. They’d look like two proper Jedi.

“Where are we going?” he asked as he linked arms with the Mandalorian as a subtle way of providing support. He felt the other hesitate with distrust and a confusion that the other was processing at lightning speed, even as the other unwillingly leaned their weight on Obi-Wan.

“Blue dock,” his new companion finally answered.

They made their way back in silence. The Mandalorian remained tense and distrustful of him, as well as in pain. Obi-Wan focused on doing what he could non-invasively to help heal the injuries, giving what energy he could to at least lessen the pain and accelerate natural healing.

They finally made it to the blue dock and the Mandalorian tried to pull away, only to stagger under their own weight.

“Are you sure you don’t want a hospital? We could collect your child and go now. I have the time,” Obi-Wan prodded.

The Mandalorian just growled and pulled away again, this time successfully. They tore off Obi-Wan’s cloak and threw it back at him.

“I have enough med supplies. I’ll be fine. Now butt out, kriffing jetii,” they snarled back at him, with far less animosity in the force than when Obi-Wan had pointed a blaster at them. Obi-Wan counted it as a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, what are chapter titles? Please send help...


	8. Scars to Your (Not Good Enough) Beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15 - Scars
> 
> Obi-Wan has spent most of his life honing the crafts and skills that make him an amazing Jedi negotiator, including appearance. The war tests this last skill quite a bit.

Obi-Wan was a trained negotiator and diplomat. As a Jedi, it was his duty to do whatever it took to successfully complete his missions. To do as well as possible.

Appearances were important. Vast majority of the people he worked with looked at him before anything else. Having Jedi help that looked nice, looked pleasing, could add just a little more smoothness to a negotiation, a better atmosphere that lent itself to earnest compromises, instead of lies and planned backstabbings.

Obi-Wan had seen the differences. Between people who looked like him or Qui-Gon versus other Jedi that didn’t look… as pretty to the rest of the galaxy. Between his master who had just mucked through swamps and didn’t bother to change boots or take leaves out of his hair versus his master after a good rest and shower.

Right or not, that was how the galaxy worked. It was a small sacrifice to pay attention to an appearance he did not care about in exchange for better negotiations that led to entire populations living better lives. So Obi-Wan did what was needed to look pretty enough for people to want to listen to him.

Scars weren’t pretty. Not to most of the galaxy.

“Honestly general, you get injured far too much. I don’t care if this isn’t your saber arm. You need to be a little more careful!” Jag reprimanded as he finished bandaging Obi-Wan’s arm.

“I was, Jag. I made sure that it hit the best option out of some bad possibilities,” Obi-Wan placated.

He heard a snort from a few cots down.

“I saw you avoid getting your face scratched, then going the extra ship-span by putting your arm in the way,” Cody scoffed from where he was getting treated.

“What,” Jag said, very much too unamused to ask.

“Yes. I blocked my face, it was the best option I had. Minimized risks,” Obi-Wan explained.

“All due respect, general, that’s one of the worst reasons for an injury I’ve ever heard. You’re still your pretty little self with a few face scars, don’t worry,” Jag said, rolling his eyes. His tone made it clear that he thought Obi-Wan’s vanity was one of the most ridiculous things he’d ever dealt with.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes back.

“While, yes, I wouldn’t particularly mind superficial scars, the rest of the galaxy feels quite different. This war will end. You and your brothers will be free to live much lower stakes lives and I will go back to being primarily a diplomatic envoy. A scar on my bicep will be covered up, a scar on my face, however, will damage my ability as a negotiator,” Obi-Wan huffed.

“That sounds like a load of osik, sir,” Wooley glibly shouted from the other side of Cody. Obi-Wan laughed at the comment.

“Yes, I quite agree with you there. Unfortunately, Negotiations do go better when the meddling Jedi is nice to look at. The prettier I look to them, the more willing parties are to work with each other. Neck, wrists, hands, face. None of those can be scarred or I start to look less nice to most, everything else I can cover up,” Obi-Wan explained.

The medbay was silent for a moment. At least physically. In the force, Obi-Wan felt a sudden maelstrom of confusion and outrage, quickly being swallowed by a wave of protectiveness.

“Going to agree with Wooley there, sir. That’s a bunch of osik you shouldn’t be concerning yourself with. If they don’t like you scarred then they can come try to be generals,” Jag growled out as he finally went back to checking Obi-Wan over. Hopefully this meant he could leave soon.

“You know we don’t care about that, right general?” Cody asked, voice carrying surprisingly strong despite its soft tone.

“Of course I do, commander, but that doesn’t change how many people out there do care,” Obi-Wan said.

Cody just continued to stare at him for a moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“You already have this integrated into your fighting style, don’t you?” Cody asked, sounding somewhat defeated. Obi-Wan felt his cheeks flush.

“Er, well, that is… not completely inaccurate?” he said, somehow feeling like a crechéling caught sneaking into the archives again.

Cody and Jag exchanged a series of looks that ended with them both nodding at each other before Cody addressed him again.

“Don’t worry, general, we’ll take care of this,” Cody said, confidant and determined.

“That’s… good,” Obi-Wan decided, not entirely sure what they thought they could do about a sight-based galaxy judging appearances, “I suppose I should be off and leave you all to it, then?” he said, moving to get off the cot and out of the medbay.

“Oh no you don’t, sir,” Jag said, pushing him down by the shoulders until he was lying on the bed. Obi-Wan sputtered and tried to push himself back up, “There was actual muscle cut, and I want to do a few more things, sir. Either you can lay yourself down there or I can strap you down.”

Obi-Wan knew, unfortunately, that Jag’s ultimatum was very literal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will finish Whumptober on time or, so help me force, I will make myself do it. (Yes, correct, there is no option for me to finish late in this declaration)


	9. Pinning Your Hopes on Those Not Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16 - Pinned Down
> 
> Cody gets trapped by a rockslide during a battle.

Cody shook off the fog clouding his mind and looked away from the sky above him to take in the new situation.

His general was still fighting Grievous in a clash of lightsabers, but much higher than before. Or rather, the rockslide had deposited Cody far lower than he had been. His bottom half hurt more than possibly any injury he’d ever gotten. Or at least as much as the training incident that gave him his facial scar. He couldn’t hear or see any other of his vode.

Hopefully the cliff he had been standing on a minute before was only partially destroyed and the few men up there with him hadn’t been caught as well.

Cody tried to move his legs, to crawl out from his vulnerable position and get somewhere he could be useful, or at least not a liability. No luck. He couldn’t move. Given the amount of pain he was in, it was probably from the rocks still pinning him, rather than any nerve damage.

He tried moving the rocks by hand, but they were too heavy.

He gave one more effort to pull himself out but gave up when an impossibly sharper pain made him bite down on his hand to keep from shouting. Yeah, this was way worse than the training incident.

He spent a few moments just breathing, trying to get himself back under control, and felt distantly panicked by the feeling of tiredness washing over him, the drain of his energy.

He was going to die.

Well, he wasn’t going down without a fight. He was a good soldier.

Cody grabbed the blaster he had been holding before he was trapped, which had landed within arms’ reach, and tried to aim it at the cyborg being pushed back up above by his Jedi.

His shot went wide, hitting the cliffside well below anywhere the fight was. Grievous didn’t even notice.

Cody, however, noticed his shaky grip and ever-decreasing energy and gave up, accepting his lot to watch his Jedi fight the infamous Jedi killer as he laid helpless and dying.

After some amount of time, Cody really couldn’t tell, every moment bled into the next, eternity after eternity that was too short to properly remember, Grievous fled.

His general almost immediately jumped down the short cliff to Cody’s level and ran over to him.

“Cody,” his general breathed out as he came close enough to be heard, stopping a few paces away before lifting his hands and letting his eyes glow blue.

Cody hissed as the pressure of the rocks lifted off his wounds.

“Sir, no. Stop. You need to chase Grievous,” Cody pleaded as Obi-Wan ran the last bit of distance between them, sitting quickly by his side.

“Grievous has retreated. The planet has been rescued from the Separatist invasion. All that’s left is to treat you and your brothers, commander,” Obi-Wan said, something desperate in the reprimand.

“Then you should go help my brothers. I may not be a medic, sir, but I know I didn’t come out of that without crushed organs. I’m dying, Obi-Wan, I’d rather you help those savable,” Cody replied, tone surprising even him with how soft and steady it was.

“Not today, you’re not. You’re not dying here, Cody,” Obi-Wan said as he lifted Cody’s head, shifting so Cody could use it as a pillow and putting his hands on Cody’s temples.

There was a rush, then. Well, no, not quite a rush. Rush was too violent of a word for the feeling that came over him. Cody didn’t really know a non-violent word for it, though, he had been raised for war, was dying from war. Non-violence wasn’t something anyone had ever bothered to teach him.

But regardless of what it was, he knew it was warm. Not hot like some of the planets he’d gone to, but warm. Warm like he hadn’t ever felt in the cold of space or the sterile, washed-out coolness of Kamino. Warmer and gentler than the times he and his vode had snuggled in piles to sleep, far softer too.

The pain was leeching away, he distantly realized.

He opened his eyes to see Obi-Wan with his closed in concentration. He felt calm from whatever his Jedi was doing.

At the very least, this would be a pleasant way to go marching far away. He hadn’t ever considered wanting a soft ending, it wasn’t ever on the table as an option. He watched Obi-Wan and the world around them, distantly thinking that this was probably the healing trance his Jedi had told him about. He still didn’t think it would be enough to save him, but it would give him more than he had ever thought he’d get. That seemed to be a theme with his Obi-Wan.

Cody felt a small smile come to face as he noted the other shapes, his vode, coming into view. They’d take care of their Obi-Wan, he thought as he slipped into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, he did not die! He thought he was dying too much for me to let him!  
(It's all about the unreliable narrator, babes ;))


	10. Staying in a Hospital is Never Fun, Unless...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17 - "Stay with me"
> 
> Obi-Wan is sick with a bad flu and just wants some company in this trying time.

Obi-Wan felt like he had been stampeded by a herd of banthas as he woke up. He felt sore and tired and everything was heavy. Even his tongue felt like there was a planet weighing it down. After a minute he managed to open his eyes to the healers’ hall, in all its brightly lit glory.

His master was also beside his bed, reading a book on his pad.

“Master?” Obi-Wan asked, throat rasping out the sounds. His master finished reading whatever sentence before looking up.

“A flu, Obi-Wan. I’ll tell the healers you’re up,” he said, before standing and exiting the curtained area.

A flu. That was just fantastic. Exactly what he needed after a tiring mission and two months of homework to catch up on. To get sick.

His master came back with a healer, who checked him over and declared his bed-bound for the rest of the week before leaving.

He saw Master Qui-Gon start to collect his things and impulsively asked, “stay with me, master? Please?”

He saw his master hesitate for a second before straightening up with all of his stuff.

“Apologies, young one, but I have work to do. Try meditating. You need to focus on the present more,” he said before he finished turning around and leaving.

Which Obi-Wan supposed was all well and fine if he had something like paperwork to do, but his present currently consisted of feeling miserable.

More than that though, his master leaving stung Obi-Wan’s soul. Which wasn’t fair, he knew. His master had more important things to do than risk his health by staying with his sick and temporarily useless padawan. Perhaps this was what he should meditate on, this fault. He was a Jedi padawan. He was supposed to be above being lonely and miserable just because he was sick.

At some point, he fell asleep. And at some point, he woke up. And he was still miserable and bored and lonely. And at some point after feeling miserable and bored and lonely for a while, he felt a familiar presence approach.

Quinlan Vos popped into his little quarantined section and sat down on Obi-Wan’s bed with his usual cavalier grin.

“Hey there, Obi, how are you doing on this fine day?” he asked, laughing. Obi-Wan just leveled him with a stare. Quinlan laughed harder.

“All right, good enough to glare at me, can’t be too bad, then,” his friend declared.

“Shouldn’t you be in class instead of making fun of my face?” Obi-Wan grumbled.

“Yep! But nope. It’s saber class and Siri’s on a mission, and you’re here sick, so there’s no one who can actually challenge me. Better to come help you get better,” Quinlan said, apparently unconcerned with skipping class.

“Becoming a healer, are you? Not sure how else you think you can help me with a flu,” Obi-Wan said.

“Simple: I’m keeping you company. Everyone knows that the misery loves company. And if Master Yoda’s right about hate always being destructive, love has to be restorative. So, you’re miserable, I bring company, we make love, and you get restored to full health and we can get back to beating each other up,” Quinlan said with the proper theatrics for his awful sense of humor.

Still, Obi-Wan laughed, “you’re incorrigible, Quinlan,” he said.

“Of course, someone in this temple has to out-stubborn you once in a while, after all,” Quinlan said as he moved to recline next to Obi-Wan, who moved over to accommodate the other, “Now, you missed the most awesome spar between Master Windu versus Knight Billaba and Master Fisto. But lucky for you, I have a recording,” Vos said as he pulled out a data pad.

An hour and a half later, Master Tholme peeked in and Obi-Wan shrunk in shame. He should have made Quinlan go to class. Now his ridiculous need for company was going to get them both in trouble.

“Now Quinlan, you-”

“You said to help out friends and the infirm, master! What better way than to help an infirm friend!”

“Indeed I did, and I think you’re clever enough to figure out how mesh those goals with the lesson of taking care of yourself. Which we already decided included going to class,” Master Tholme continued from the interruption, Obi-Wan was cautiously confused about the smile on the man’s face, “method is important. So you will still have to be punished.”

Master Tholme stepped into the curtained area, a small stack of pads under his arm.

“So your punishment shall be making sure you finish your schoolwork, but only after you have helped Padawan Kenobi finish his,” the man said as he dropped the stack of pads onto Quinlan’s lap, still smiling, the force still light around him.

“Understood, master!” Quinlan said, enthusiastic and smiling right back.

“Good,” Master Tholme’s smile softened as he turned to Obi-Wan, “and I hope you feel better soon, young Obi-Wan.”

“Thank you, Master Tholme,” Obi-Wan replied, blushing.

Master Tholme left him with a smile still on his face and Obi-Wan and Quinlan did what they could to slog through Obi-Wan work, which was rather hard given his flu-riddled brain.

At some point between Quinlan trying to get Obi-Wan to drink more water and to solve math equations, Master Windu entered Obi-Wan’s area.

“Pardon m-,” Master Windu cut himself off, “Padawan Vos. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I’m tutoring Obi-Wan,” Quinlan said, mischievous grin on his face again, “Master Tholme okayed it.”

Master Windu sighed. “Be that as it may, you should be in class. Master Jinn can assist his padawan with any school work just fine,” the man said, glancing around subtly as though expecting his fellow master to pull back the curtains at any moment.

“My master has too much work today, Master Windu. Master Tholme was kind enough to bring my schoolwork by instead,” Obi-Wan explained.

There was a surprising moment where Obi-Wan felt a roll of displeasure, almost anger, with a strong bout of annoyance, emanate from Master Windu before it was hidden behind the man’s shields.

“Of course. Of course Qui-Gon Jinn has too much work to stay in the healing halls with his sick padawan where I expected him to be,” Master Windu said, tone low enough that Obi-Wan wasn’t sure they were meant to hear it.

He and Quinlan shared a glance before turning their attention back as Master Windu more clearly addressed them.

“Thank you for the information, Padawan Kenobi. I will leave you two to your work. Force be with you both,” the man said, swirling and stalking out of view before they could respond.

Quinlan and Obi-Wan stared at each other before shrugging, confused, but more than happy to get back to their work with a council member’s seal of approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Quinlan ever stop being devil-may-care? Will Qui-Gon Jinn ever stop giving Mace a headache? Will Obi-Wan ever like medical attention?
> 
> No.


	11. I Wanna Scream! And Shout! And Tell You to Get Out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18 - Muffled Scream
> 
> Cody's own screams are muffled by whatever's controlling his body as his voice orders his vode to fire on their general, instead of screaming for his general to run.

He tried to scream as his body turned off the communicator. Tried to scream as he gave the order to his vode, instead hearing calm words flow from his mouth that he did not want to say. Tried to scream as he yelled the order to fire, instead of stop or run.

Something was wrong and Cody was too late to fix it as he watched his general turn back, panicked look on his face as he made eye contact with Cody, right before he got blasted off the cliff by his own men.

Mount and Jedi hit the water and Cody kept trying to scream. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t even cry as he ordered his brothers, who must have been in the same boat because if they hadn’t they wouldn’t have dared fire, but Cody almost hoped they couldn’t see themselves like he could. Because they just killed their general and now he was ordering them to scour the area, find the body and make sure it’s dead and they were listening.

Cody also went to search and kept screaming internally, not sure what else to do, as he made his way through ferns and shrubs.

As he passed by the lip of the pool, near the rock cave system, he was tackled. He distantly registered the red hair, <strike>his general, blessedly safe an alive </strike>_Traitor. Kill on sight_, right before everything went black.

* * *

When he came to, he was sitting restrained, in a cave. Somewhere dry, surprisingly, despite the fact that <strike>Cody</strike> _CC-2224_ could hear water flowing nearby. There was light from a campfire, no natural light, so it was either night or they were very deep inside. On the other side of the campfire was <strike>Obi-Wan</strike> _the traitor_.

“Cody? Are you okay now?” <strike>his</strike> **_traitor _**Jedi asked cautiously.

<strike>Cody</strike> CC-2224 growled, “Damn, jetii,” as he lunged forward. Cody tried to scream again, still unable to control his own mouth.

He wasn’t safe anymore. Obi-Wan needed to run. To get away from him and his vode. Cody had spent so much of his life trying to protect his jedi, he couldn’t bear the thought of harming him, even as his body sloppily shot over the fire.

The fire was quickly extinguished by the move and CC-2224 found himself pinned to the cave floor within seconds.

“Cody, are you hurt? Cody… Cody, you are in there, right?” <strike>Obi-Wan</strike> the damn Jedi asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Traitor. Should be dead already,” CC-2<strike>224</strike> <strike>Co</strike>dy _<strike>CC-2224</strike>_ Co<strike>dy’s body</strike> **_CC-2224 _**said. Cody didn’t mean it. Obi-Wan needed to live. He wanted his general away now. He had become a threat and that was inexcusable.

Obi-Wan needed to kill him or leave or both and he needed to do it now.

There were a few moments of silence where C<strike>ody</strike> _C<strike>C-2224</strike>_ **_Cody _**wished he could see Kenobi’s face, which he had learned to read so well. But couldn’t in the pitch-black cave.

Finally, after a small eternity, the Jedi spoke again, “Cody. I can feel there’s something wrong with how much you’re lying and screaming into the force. Yet there are things that don’t make sense because you’re also not quite lying and I don’t know how to fix this right now. I am however seriously considering knocking you out with all the mental pain you’re radiating. Understand?”

Cody felt a spark of hope at that. Because maybe it wouldn’t be as safe as he wanted, but his jedi would be in less danger. He let the parts of him that claimed to be CC-2224 squirm and curse at Obi-Wan, focusing his energy into thinking as hard as he could, hopefully so that it would sing in the force like his Jedi had described to him so many times, that he was happy at the idea. That he wanted Obi-Wan to knock him out.

Cody was doing the internal equivalent of a relieved smile when an unnatural sleep took him.

Hopefully when he woke up, Obi-Wan would be long gone and safe.

* * *

Cody woke up to a bright white ceiling. It hurt his eyes.

He screwed them shut in retaliation and let his head fall to the side as he groaned.

He felt sore and groggy and didn’t know where he was but he wasn’t strapped down so he was probably in some sort of medical center in friendly territory. But he wasn’t sure what friendly territory was at the moment, given that his own body had just become unsafe.

He wish he could pin it down on a nightmare, but Cody had never been good at deluding himself. He knew what he had done.

Cody slowly opened his eyes and froze when he saw Obi-Wan, his general, his Jedi sitting beside him.

He had never been good at staying shocked, either.

“Sir! Run!” he yelled, feeling as startled as Obi-Wan looked that the scream had actually made it out of his mouth.

Obi-Wan stared for a moment before purposefully relaxing and addressing him softly, “Cody, it’s all right now. You’re safe.”

“No I’m not, sir. Not for you. You need to get out of here. Away from me. I might-” Cody cut himself off, unable to voice the possibility. Former reality.

“You won’t Cody, don’t worry. We found-” Obi-Wan took a deep breath, “We figured out why that happened and made sure it wouldn’t happen again.”

From there Obi-Wan explained the chip they’d found. They being him and Organa and a few other allies and some droids. He showed Cody the chip that had been in his head. His Obi-Wan explained that he’d been out for two weeks, first kept under while they discovered the chip and figured out how to get it out, then for surgery, and finally his body kept him under to recuperate.

Then Obi-Wan explained what had happened to cause that and since. How the chancellor was Darth Sidious, had turned the clones forcefully and the Republic willingly against the Jedi, how the Jedi temple had been stormed and Master Yoda had gotten back, too late to stop the massacre, but left a message for all Jedi explaining what happened. How no one knew where he was but that Sidious was still standing as the newly enthroned Emperor Palpatine and Senator Amidala was missing but that Anakin Skywalker stood as the Emperor’s right hand man so they had some good guesses on where she was.

Obi-Wan let Cody sit in silence for a few minutes as he soaked in all the details, all the implications.

“So Cody,” Obi-Wan eventually prodded, causing Cody to look back up at him, “what do you say to freeing your brothers and the galaxy from an undemocratic Sith empire?” he asked.

Cody’s answering grin contained bloodlust that CC-2224 could have never dreamed of matching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing's exactly happy, but it will be a happier Universe with more justice and fewer years of tyranny, at least?


	12. Drinking to Forget is Supposed to be After Trauma, Not Before!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21 - Laced Drink
> 
> Turns out that through the course of the war, some people have become interested in acquiring clones for themselves.  
Cody is not amused nor a fan of this. Turns out, neither are the Jedi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: off-screen drugging, imprisonment, discussions/planning of slavery, implied plans for medical experimentation on humans

Cody woke up with a prevailing fog in his head, no sense of balance, a headache, and unable to think.

Unable to remember.

He blinked a few times and shook his head until he just had a migraine and the room was pitching like the artificial gravity had been turned off.

No. Not room. Cell. Shackled to a wall of a cell.

Fantastic.

After a moment, he recalled being at a bar with Rex. A few drinks. Nowhere near enough to knock them out, let alone make him forget things. Drugged.

Where was Rex? His vod wouldn’t have abandoned him if he had any other option.

Someone beside him groaned. Cody glanced over.

Yep. There was Rex. Beautiful.

General Kenobi was not going to let him live this one down.

“Vod?” Rex asked, still groggy.

“Rex’ika. We were drugged,” Cody explained.

“We were what?” Rex asked, still sluggish. Perhaps those diplomatic lessons with Obi-Wan, including a bit of poison resistance, had helped him after all.

“Drugged. As in, given chemicals without our permission to knock us out. So whoever could lock us up,” Cody explained dryly. Coping through dry gallows humor counted as healthy, right?

“Osik,” Rex spit out beside him.

“Lek. I say we don’t try anything until we stop thinking the room’s spinning,” Cody said.

“Wait… We’re not in zero-G?”

Their captors came to check on them eventually, loud enough that Cody and Rex could pretend to be asleep. The fools actually fell for it.

Not that Cody was complaining. They had information now.

They had been captured by slavers, who ran an operation with the temp bartender as their drugger, letting them switch abduction sites as needed. Opportunistic. Apparently, there had been a few people interested in clones lately. The slavers were debating whether to sell them to someone who wanted to research, or someone who wanted a trophy.

The person who seemed to have more seniority suggested Cody be sold for research, too scarred apparently, and Rex as a pet for someone willing to pay extra for a “rare” clone.

It was very hard to pretend to sleep when he heard that suggestion.

Two days, where they were given water twice a day and a single ration bar to share each morning, before there was any action.

Rex hadn’t finished coming around until most of the first day had passed. So they had only figured out how to get in and out of their cuffs, as well as which corners of their cell they were sure were safe from the hallway cameras, when they heard a familiar hum.

There were a few yells at the end of the hallway, quickly silenced, then a pounding of feet.

Given the heavy gait, Cody was unsurprised to see General Skywalker at their cell’s ray shield entrance. The man took a moment to look at the panel, before quirking a pleased smile and activating his lightsaber through the controls.

Rex and Cody were already out of their cuffs by the time the shield flickered off a second later.

“Gentlemen, your getaway awaits,” General Skywalker said, flourishing his hand to point down the hall.

Rex and Cody took the cue to run, Skywalker bringing up the rear, slowing down to their pace, even slower than usual with the slight starvation and dehydration.

There was a lift at the end of the hall. It took them up to what Cody supposed was once a warehouse, albeit with a few recent Jedi remodels, including a giant hole in one wall that revealed Ahsoka waiting for them in a speeder in an alley.

Cody and Rex climbed in, Rex taking front passenger with a vehemence. Cody figured out why as General Skywalker turned into one of the most annoying backseat drivers he’d ever encountered. And he’d flown with an injured Oddball behind him.

They made their way to a transport ship, then up to the negotiator without any more issues, except perhaps Cody’s faith in his own general’s currently unknown ability to drive, particularly with regards to safe speeds.

They were ushered into the medbay as soon as they arrived. Kix making a special appearance to team up with Jag and Checker. It almost made him understand a bit of his own general’s aversion to medical treatment.

Obi-Wan entered a few hours later, just as Cody was considering letting himself drift off to sleep. The medics had declared they wanted him and Rex to stay overnight.

“Apologies, Commander. Paperwork has been a bit much today,” his general said, a soft, weary smile on his face.

Cody grunted an affirmative noise in response. Paperwork never stopped, even if two armies lost their commanders for a few days. Cody wouldn’t be surprised if Obi-Wan had also picked up some of Skywalker’s just so he could afford to stage their rescue. He glanced over at his vod beside him.

“The slavers?” he asked. Obi-Wan twitched. A very small movement near his eye that Cody had learned to read.

“A work in progress. Anakin did unfortunately kill a number of them. And they don’t seem to have kept the best records, so there seems to be a lot of information missing,” Obi-Wan explained. Cody felt something in him thrash and burn at the thought that the slavers hadn’t already been driven into the ground. Just the few guards by their cell.

Cody, however, just hummed then allowed his general to change the topic to what he had missed and what their next mission was.

At least the few weeks of hyperspace travel would give him a bit of a rest.

The next day, after breakfast, he and Rex were called into the war room. Obi-Wan seemed to be conversing with the council in somewhat cold tones when they entered.

They were asked to testify what had happened, although they couldn’t actually give that much information, in Cody’s opinion.

Still, they answered the Jedi council’s questions. After, they retreated out of view to stand beside General Skywalker and Commander Tano, the latter of which was looking a little rodian-eyed.

Cody understood why a few moments later as Obi-Wan gave his closing statements to the council.

Somehow, in the time since Rex and Cody had been drugged and captured, Obi-Wan had tracked down the slavers, identified ten other outposts in just this system, a few dozen in neighboring systems, the slavery ring’s contacts with Zygerria, multiple other Hutt and Separatist affiliated organizations, and particular key players in the operation itself. Then, with all the evidence he had apparently collected to figure all of that out, he laid out very explicit, harsh, merciless legal prosecution on the slavers and most of their contacts.

His general finished his justification for Skywalker and Tano’s actions with a plan to continue burning the organization by the roots and using the routes he had found to help curb slavery in the future, while getting a few jabs in at current anti-slavery action laws, whose restrictions he’d heard Obi-Wan complain about before.

It was the politest thing he’d heard his general say in a while.

The council, on their part, seemed equal parts somber, amused, and excited. Because apparently this wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had handed them a way to deal with a particular evil they wanted to stomp down on an aurodium platter.

As the council transmission cut out, Cody heard Skywalker whisper “I don’t think he’s gone this overboard since I was fourteen,” in a tone equally awed and scared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm going to catch up on Whumptober!  
My body: So what you're saying is that it's time for a head cold, right?


	13. Quiet Game? More like Survival Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22 - <strike>hallucination</strike> "Stay quiet."
> 
> Cody ends up behind enemy lines with an injured shiny. This is not ideal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: crushed leg (not graphic)

“Stay quiet.”

The shiny instead lifted his hand to his mouth to muffle his whimpers.

Cody cursed under his breath, looking towards the entrance of the crack he had hidden them in.

The shiny’s helmet had gotten cracked, torn off, and lost in the same rapid fire bombing that had deposited part of a building on his leg, so Cody couldn’t blame the poor kid for the noises. But still…

“Please. Our allies got pushed back, we’re behind enemy lines. Stealth is key here, remember? You need to keep quiet,” Cody begged in a whisper.

The shiny clenched his jaw tightly, and Cody could still hear his harsh panting whistle through his teeth, but it was better than before.

Hopefully it was good enough to avoid the auditory sensors on the clankers. Especially with the battle still going on.

They stayed there for almost an hour, Cody doing what he could for his vod’s leg, hoping that he wasn’t hallucinating the sounds of battle getting closer.

He almost cried out himself in relief when he heard the telltale whooshing swing of a lightsaber.

Instead, he reached out in his mind like his general had been teaching him, trying to send his thanks and relief to the man. After a moment, he felt a warm pulse wrap his mind with something… good. Cody still couldn’t quite tell what a lot of those sensations were, but he had become familiar with what it felt like when Obi-Wan touched his mind.

He saw a blur of blue and beige through the entrance of their crevice as his Jedi tore through the battlefield. His vode were short to follow. A fierce wave.

They only had to wait a few more minutes for line to pushed far enough that two medics got to them. Cody helped one of them, one of the new batch so he didn’t know their name, get the shiny onto a stretcher, nodded at the unknown and Void, before turning back to the battle, yelling a war cry.


	14. Losing Your Path is Hard, Have You Tried Backtracking?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 23 - <strike>bleeding out</strike> Lost
> 
> Boba loses everything that actually matters on Genosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: decapitation, general battle of Genosis violence

Boba watched from the abandoned archways. His buir had taught him stealth, made him practice it constantly, so he wasn’t worried about catching anyone’s attention, especially with how chaotic the battle was below.

He watched his buir jetpack down into the arena after killing a jetii with ease. Boba smiled as his buir’s strategy became obvious.

A Jedi getting trampled by the reek, losing their purple lightsaber. An even easier kill. No need to waste any effort on a jetii.

Except then the jetii gets their lightsaber back and his buir’s on the ground, getting trampled by the reek himself.

Boba’s worried about the injuries that are going to come from that, but he knows his buir will pull through. He always does, no matter the odds.

His buir kills the reek, where all the other jetii had failed, because he’s awesome like that. And then the purple-sabered jetii was charging and his buir was firing off shots.

Boba’s confidence faltered as his buir backed up, clearly still off balance from being trampled, and Boba remembered a spark from his jetpack, so unless his buir wanted to blow himself up he probably couldn’t use it and it still felt like a sudden void had sucked everything from him when the jetii took his buir’s hand and head in two neat strokes.

Boba didn’t remember much after that, he just knew that he was somehow back on Slave 1 with his buir’s armor.

He feels so lost. He knew he was supposed to go see one of the Cuy’val Dar. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to go with one of them. He just wanted his buir. He couldn’t really do much but drift in space. There was nowhere to go. He’d always followed his buir. He didn’t know where to go now, there was nowhere he wanted to go, could see himself go.

He fell asleep on the cockpit floor, crying, holding his buir’s helmet.

He didn’t dream. He knew, somehow, that what he was experiencing wasn’t a dream. He saw himself go after the purple-sabered jetii, Windu, and fail. And fail and fail and once in a while succeed. Regardless, he usually ended up in prison, then bounty hunting, then bounty hunting for an empire, usually dying on one of their jobs. Sometimes dying on other jobs. Sometimes he didn’t go to prison, but a foster home, and those paths were worse and better and both and neither and then sometimes he never faced Windu. Only in a few sometimes. A few ifs. The best way he has to describe them. He doesn’t like those, not really, even the three he looks happy in.

None of them had his buir in them.

And there were so many, he couldn’t find a path to take. No “if” actually made him want to follow it. He’s still lost.

He wanted his buir.

Something warm curled around him at that. Somehow gentle and impersonal. It asked if he really thought he wanted to go back to his buir.

That was a silly question. Of course he wanted to.

Boba woke up in a white room, with the distant sound of rain.

Kamino.

He was in his room on Kamino.

His buir was in the other room, he could feel him.

Wait. What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I actually do want to do a Boba Fett time-travel fixit eventually, but it won't quite play out like this if I ever get around to it)


	15. It's Not a Secret, No Injury Makes Me Want to Go to a Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24 - Secret Injury
> 
> Obi-Wan Kenobi gets through his first council meeting without messing up and distracting everyone with his injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: injuries (no blood), pushy medical people

Obi-Wan stood beside and behind his master, posture perfect. It took a lot of effort, he was sore and tired and maintaining his shields was taking far too much effort. And he had to actually pay attention to what was going on.

He did admirably enough, he thought. He answered the few questions the council directed at him, and the few oddballs his master deputized him to answer on the spot.

It went decently well, and he was pretty sure Mace’s eye only twitched five times this time. Single digits were rare on missions lasting a month or more for his master.

The council eventually dismissed them and Obi-Wan made sure to give the proper bow to them, his master being a bit more casual.

They exited the chamber and made their way to the turbolift, Obi-Wan turned his effort from paying attention to trying not to limp. His left ankle hurt, but he needed to get back to their apartment, clean his room from whatever dust, clean himself up, then start catching up on his schoolwork. His ankle wasn’t broken. He just needed to sleep it off.

* * *

The next morning, his ankle was still throbbing. He tried walking on it, which immediately proved to be an excruciating exercise. His master still wasn’t up, thank goodness, he didn’t want to bother the poor man. Force knew his master didn’t get enough sleep. So he bounced quietly around his room to get dressed before hobbling out of the apartment to get to the turbolift.

After stepping off the lift, he found his ankle hurt even more. He stopped for a moment to tend to it after secluding himself in an alcove. Walking was hurting far more than it should. He just wanted to go to class today. Then go back to his master and work with him on saber forms. He doubted this trip to the healers would let him.

Well, if he used the force again… It was just the pain that was a problem, right?

He siphoned the pain away as well as he could and tried to walk back towards the turbolift. Unfortunately, his leg gave out from under him.

That obviously wasn’t going to work.

Resigned, Obi-Wan hopped and hobbled down towards the healers’ hall.

* * *

“Obi-Wan Kenobi!” Vokara Che yelled as she entered Obi-Wan’s area, already irate. She was followed a few moments later by her master, Lanaum.

“Hello, Padawan Kenobi,” he said, very gentle compared to his apprentice.

“Healer Lanaum,” Obi-Wan replied, bowing as much as he was able in his bed.

“Multiple bruises, three untreated cuts, a scraped knee, and a severely sprained ankle,” Che barked out, reading his medical report to her mentor. Obi-Wan winced. Healer Lanaum sighed.

“Obi-Wan, you know you’re supposed to come here first after getting injured on a mission,” he admonished.

“The council called me and my master to report immediately,” Obi-Wan explained.

“And did the council know you were injured?” Che accused.

“No,” Obi-Wan replied, eye twitching.

“Your master should have informed them. Did he know?” Healer Lanaum asked.

“I… didn’t tell him, I presume that he noticed a few minor scrapes weren’t worth delaying our council meeting, though,” Lanaum snorted at Obi-Wan’s conjecture.

“Qui-Gon Jinn will take any excuse to delay or get out of meeting with the council, young one. You’ve been his padawan for year and a half, so you must have noticed somewhat. No, if he knew, you would have been down here all day yesterday,” Lanaum explained, “But even so, just because your master doesn’t tell you to seek medcial attention doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. Next time you’re injured, I expect you to come here as soon as you notice, regardless of what the council and your master may or may not notice, regardless of what they say.”

This time Che snorted.

“I will… keep that in mind, Healer Lanaum,” Obi-Wan said, not technically lying.

Given Vokara Che’s squinted glare, Obi-Wan suspected he had not convinced her, even as she and her master moved forward with his appointment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's be real, was there any way I wasn't doing Obi-Wan for this?


	16. Humiliating, Yes, But Better Than Giving in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25 - Humiliation
> 
> An Integration Alternate again! This time, there's no coup, so Obi-Wan and Wenuve actually try to escape! So many times that the Mandalorians decide to resort to some... less used nowadays methods  
(please tell me y'all are reading my content warnings, this one gets kind of bad)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: forced public nudity, forced nudity of a modesty-dress/hijabi-coded character, nonconsensual touching, imprisonment/restraints
> 
> Italicized dialogue is Mando'a

Obi-Wan stared, face completely neutral.

Phas Wudo stared back, face calm and displeased, but not the worst disappointed face he’d ever seen. That was of course aided by the fact that he didn’t particularly care about disappointing her.

Beside him, Wenuve was still tapping her fingers on the table in increasing irritation, her leg starting to twitch as well.

Ms. Wudo sighed.

“You do realize that those bins are marked biohazard for a reason, right?” she said, her voice stern and her force presence resigned. Obi-Wan shrugged.

“You weren’t expecting it,” he said, letting his tone and face taunt where the words themselves did not.

Ms. Wudo looked between him and Wenuve several times. Obi-Wan was admittedly a little worried this time, the past three times after an escape attempt, they had been kept separated for a while. Having them together for the post-recapture interrogation probably meant a change in pattern, and the Mandalorians definitely had the upper hand there.

“Look, can we please just get this over with? Kriff, you two never just talk straight. Obi-Wan and I aren’t integrating, blah-blah-blah, why not, we don’t want to, blah-blah-blah, extra lessons, can’t talk to each other for a few weeks, blah-blah-blah, isn’t the empire nice, blah-blah-blah, we all glare at each other until you sigh, say our escape route won’t work, and leave. Now can we just skip all that? I’m bored of this dance,” Wenuve complained, banging her head down on table.

Ms. Wudo stared for a moment before sighing again, almost like she was humoring Wenuve.

“This is the fourth time you two have tried to escape together. We thought that after last time you two had learned your lessons. We obviously need to take more drastic measures. If you do not promise, and then make good on that promise, to stop trying to escape and to put more effort into integrating, then we will resort to… older methods,” Ms. Wudo said.

“What the kark do you mean, older methods?” Wenuve asked, lifting her head from the table to look at Ms. Wudo liked she’d spontaneously grown wings.

“Methods from a time when, for various reasons, we did not always respect a person’s rights as much as we do now,” Ms. Wudo replied.

Obi-Wan let out a snort at that, but did no more as Phas Wudo’s gaze flickered over to him before moving back to Wenuve.

“Well?” she asked.

Obi-Wan just lounged further back in his chair while Wenuve started cackling.

After a few moments of this, Ms. Wudo gave them a small smile and nodded, “So be it,” she said before standing and leaving the room.

A few seconds later gas started to fill the room. He and Wenuve stayed calm for it, unfortunately used to how much the Mandalorians liked to knock them out.

* * *

This time when Obi-Wan woke up, it was with force mufflers on. Not enough to cause him distress or health issues, but enough that most trained Mandalorians would have a fighting chance against him.

With the restraints he could feel holding him spread eagled and angled slightly down, there was almost no chance that he would be able to do something in time to not be countered.

He was also naked.

He opened his eyes to find himself in some sort of small forum-like room. There seemed to be multiple hallways that led to it, a few places to sit, plenty of open space to meet and talk. There were a few Mandalorians in the room, a few were socializing, a few working on their own. There were also two Mandalorians in front of him, obviously guarding, and another if turned his head a bit and glanced to the side.

There was one on his other side too, he was fairly sure, but he looked away as quickly as he could when he caught sight of Wenuve beside him, treated in much the same way. Bound, naked, on display.

She also looked, from his quick accidental glance, to have something painted on her face. As a bit of a cross breeze hit the room from one of the hallways, he felt parts of his face cool like they also had paint on them. It felt like there was a stripe painted across his eyes, connected to another strip that went down his face. Nothing on his forehead, though.

They had painted Mandalorian T-visors on their faces.

* * *

After what Obi-Wan was pretty sure was about half an hour, he heard Wenuve groan, followed by a small gasp and then silence. He could feel discomfort and fear and shame emanate from her.

“Wenu-” Obi-Wan stopped trying to comfort her when he saw one of the guards shift for a weapon. As soon as he closed his mouth, the guard relaxed. No communication, then.

A few minutes later, Phas Wudo entered the room and then his line of sight. She lifted his chin so he would make eye contact with her.

“_As I said before, promise no more escapes, and effort at integrating,_” she said. Obi-Wan huffed at the demand, “_rules until you do are don’t try to escape from this, or we will make it worse. You can speak in Mando’a or you can be gagged. The guards only interfere if needed, and any other Mandalorians have free reign,_” she explained.

Obi-Wan felt himself grind to a halt, internally. This was not good.

He heard Ms. Wudo repeat her explanation to Wenuve before leaving.

Phas Wudo’s explanation seemed to be some sort of signal, because some of the Mandalorians started getting closer.

The next few hours tested Obi-Wan’s fortitude in a way he hadn’t had to deal with in quite some time.

Although in some ways, this was better than some of the things politicians had done to him over the years, in the sense of looking at him like a piece of meat and ignoring his personal space, the Mandalorians weren’t interested in him sexually, at least. And they seemed to have more care about not harming him than many people he’d had to do deal with as a Jedi. But that did not change the fact that they were coming up to him, talking with each other about what a good Mandalorian he was going to make, how cute he was in his defiance, and throwing in a few other random praises.

They also had a tendency to pet his hair. A few also took to stroking his side or back. Once in a while someone would test his muscles or touch his face as well. But mainly, there was a lot of petting and playing with his hair.

It was a little humiliating, which was more than shame than he’d felt in a long time, to be honest. He just hoped that Wenuve was getting far less physical attention than him. She was constantly a muffled maelstrom of shame and distress beside him, but she only rarely unleashed a spike of disgust and fear that he could feel. Obi-Wan hoped those were the only times she was touched.

He certainly heard her being talked about too much for his liking, even if it was less than him.

* * *

On the third day, after their morning walk and bathroom break, he heard Wenuve break.

Obi-Wan let himself be shackled back up, stoic and cold to his guards as usual, but he heard Wenuve hiccup and start begging.

“Gedet’ye. Gedet’ye, nayc, gedet’ye,” she said, voice trembling.

Obi-Wan was tempted to tell her to stop making a scene, please, before Phas Wudo came for her daily check in, but he had resolved to not speak in Mando’a again, and doubted he could say everything before the guards stopped him.

Especially once he felt Ms. Wudo enter the forum.

“_Is there a problem?_” she asked, calm.

“_I- I don’t want… Please. I can’t…” _Wenuve trailed off.

“_If you don’t want to do this anymore, you know what you need to promise,_” Phas said, Obi-Wan grimaced at that. They had gotten Wenuve, the poor woman.

“_I won’t… I won’t try leaving again. And I am… um… will try in classes. I promise_,” Wenuve said, voice still shaky.

Obi-Wan saw Wudo cross his line of sight while taking off her coat, probably to give to Wenuve. He still closed his eyes as they crossed back across the room. They stopped at one of the rooms exits.

“_And you?_” Wudo asked.

Obi-Wan just smiled back, eyes still closed. Phas Wudo, and all the other Mandalorians, hadn’t actually seen how stubborn he could be yet. It would be interesting to show them.

* * *

After a week, he was denied his morning walk in exchange for being forcefully cleaned. Despite the restraints, he was cleaned distressingly gently.

He was tempted to fight the reapplication of his paint, but Kanvined, because of course they got Kanvined, must have seen something of his intent and informed him that they had a face clamp to restrain him if necessary. So Obi-Wan let him reapply the blue paint without much fuss.

He continued to not fuss as he was brought back to the forum and strapped back into his restraints. At least they had managed to keep kids from this area, he reflected, it would be a bit difficult to explain it to them.

An hour later, he felt Jango Fett enter the forum and approach him from behind as everyone but his guards left. Perhaps he was getting Jango’s attention today instead of Wudo’s.

Kriff. No. Fett’s. Fett’s attention. A few dinners and discussions about students did not a Mand’alor unmake.

Fett stepped in front of him and reached a hand out. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and felt the man in front of him grab his chin lightly, a thumb running under the line of paint covering his eye.

“_You continue to show impressive spirit, but is this stubbornness really worth it? What do you expect to get out of it?_” Fett asked, thumb still stroking Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stayed silent.

“_If you would talk to us about it, we’d be more than happy to help you settle whatever you need to accept your home here. Being in this position is tiring, I know, wouldn’t it be better to go back so that you can actually do something?_” the man soothed, trying to tempt Obi-Wan as his hand switched to running through Obi-Wan’s hair. Unfortunately for Jango, Obi-Wan wanted to back a bit further than discussing his students after Mando’a class. And they weren’t going to let him go back to the Republic. To the Jedi.

“_As stubborn as we Mandalorians are, this is inevitable. And I know you’re smart enough to realize that. It will be much better for you to give in soon._” Jango continued, finally removing his hand.

Obi-Wan stayed silent.

“_There are, of course, more ways to get you back to normal integration. More extreme methods that we haven’t had to use in some time, but will if that’s what you need.”_

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked up at the Madn’alor, letting a sith-may-care smile grow on hist face. The first real expression he’d shown in the past week. He took care to enunciate each syllable in exaggerated basic.

“I am a Jedi. Do your worst.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a warrior empire that forcefully inducts people for you!
> 
> Mando'a:  
Gedet’ye. Gedet’ye, nayc, gedet’ye - Please. please, no, please


	17. Bind You Back to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 31 - <strike>embrace</strike> bound
> 
> Another Integration side AU! In which I have very little context beyond Obi-Wan successfully escapes to the Republic, but is eventually reclaimed by the Mandalorians. Jango is willing to go the extra mile, probably in exchange for a lot of his former patience!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for: restraints/imprisonment, non-consensual touching  
(I don't know, I imply a lot and I don't know quite how to warn for it... Dead dove: do not eat?)

It was hard for Obi-Wan to tell that he had woken up, let alone how long he had been awake. Eventually, however, he figured out that he was awake.

He just couldn’t feel much physically because he was bound in a stasis field, so he wasn’t able to move his body or touching anything. He also couldn’t feel anything in the force because he was completely force blind, he thought he might have been able to feel something around his neck for that, but he might have been imagining it. He couldn’t even see anything because he blindfolded, everything completely black even when he was sure his eyes were open.

He’s not sure how long he was held like that. He might have even fallen asleep again a few times. He couldn’t tell.

He eventually hears a door open and someone enter the space, so at least he finally knew that there was nothing restricting his ears, he just hadn’t had anything to hear.

Suddenly, there was gravity again and he was falling. He tried to keep his balance as his feet hit the ground, but he must have been in stasis for an extended period of time because his legs automatically gave out, shaking, bringing him to his knees, causing him to throw a hand out to help balance.

It was then that he was finally able to notice the additional restraints around his wrists and ankles. His neck definitely had something foreign wrapped around it as well and he was able to hear some chains move in response to his fall.

He tried to catch his breath and slow his heart as he listens and waits, trying to figure out what the person who entered… wherever he was, was going to do next.

The next thing he realized was happening however, was that his arms were being pulled forward and together. He managed to pull them back enough to catch himself on his elbows instead of his face as he heard them get locked together.

He still tested to see if there was any give, any separation at all. But there was nothing, just the forced connection between his two wrists.

When he felt chains, probably connected to his wrist shackles, start to get wound around the rest of his arms, he finally started to struggle. He tried to pull his legs back and kick out as he drew his arms in, but he heard a beep before his legs, also definitely chained, got pulled back, his captor holding his arm chains strong enough that he was forced to lay flat on the ground.

The rest of his struggles ended up being similarly fruitless.

When his arms and legs were bound to his captor’s satisfaction, including looping the arm chains around his torso a few times, he was picked up and settled into their arms before Obi-Wan felt them move.

They moved into what Obi-Wan assumed was a hallway, and he could hear just enough ambient noises to figure out he was in space on a ship.

Obi-Wan distantly wondered if everything really was pitch black, or close enough to it, that there was no discernable lighting difference and his captor had some other way of knowing where they were going, or if whatever was covering his eyes actually worked that well.

Given that he doubted any sith would go that far for keeping him, literally, in the dark, Obi-Wan suspected it was the first.

Although… despite the violation of autonomy, chains, restraints, and otherwise, he had been treated unexpectedly well for a sith’s prisoner.

His captor carried him for what seemed like a long time, and Obi-Wan heard variation in the noise, though not often near. But it let him know for certain that there were others on board the ship.

Once, he almost thought he heard someone shout “oya!” but… no, that couldn’t be right.

Eventually, they got to wherever his captor meant to re-imprison him. Obi-Wan felt them stop and heard the hiss of a door before they walk again.

A moment later, he was being forced to sit on a soft surface.

The chains on his legs were unwrapped first, one at a time, and Obi-Wan felt them get pulled across his shins before hearing them lock onto something.

His captor still hadn’t said anything. And without more information on who they were, he didn’t dare make his first move. Saying something wrong would tilt everything even further out of his favor. If he knew who was restraining him, had even a guess as to which sith had captured him, then he’d have been able to work something out to start some sort of power dynamic.

Instead, he’s had firm, gentle, silent actions. It communicated a dedication to keeping him imprisoned, a lack of omni-present malignance, and not much else. The lack of beating and/or gloating is what really made him flounder at guessing their identity.

Next, the chains around his arms. Once again extracted one at a time, but pulled the opposite direction of his leg chains.

His brain put the unfortunate conclusion together quite quickly. He had been chained to a bed.

With enough slack that he could still sit, which was curious, but Obi-Wan didn’t expect that to last long.

He felt arms reach around his head, and a moment later felt the blindfold shifting as it came off. He screwed his eyes further shut as light made it through even his closed eyelids.

Apparently, his captor had gone the extra mile in finding material to blindfold him with.

He felt a finger and thumb lightly grab his chin and tilt it up. Time to face the music.

Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes and froze once he adjusted to the light enough to recognize who was in front of him.

Because this was supposed to be impossible.

He’d escaped. Gone back to the Republic. The Jedi. All he had fought since was the Sith. Not even Hutt-related missions. He was either on Coruscant or fighting on the Sith front. The council had succeeded time and time again at keeping him from being sent anywhere with a risk of-

This shouldn’t have been happening.

“This was a much harder rescue than I wanted, Obi-Wan,” Jango said. Obi-Wan felt his world crash, force or no force, Jango still had an undeniable presence, and he knew this voice so well. There was no denying who currently had him in their jurisdiction.

Being chained to a bed further pushed in the realization that he had taken months to realize with the help of his Jedi family.

“And the condition you’re in… They really can’t take care of you over there, can they? Can’t protect you,” Jango said. Obi-Wan snarled at the insult to the Jedi. They did what they could and how dare Jango try to divorce him from his home again.

Fett. Kriff. How was he already falling into old habits?

“And we obviously can’t trust you to take care of yourself either. Not right now, at least,” <strike>Jango</strike> Fett continued, heedless of Obi-Wan’s aggression, “You obviously can’t be trusted to take care of yourself any better,” he said, playing with the chain connected to Obi-Wan’s right wrist for a moment.

“We’ll be putting something into your curriculum to help with that, don’t worry. Until we get you through whatever module that is, though, these will have to stay,” Fett said, moving his hand from chain to manacle, to Obi-Wan’s actual arm, “understand?”

“Perfectly,” Obi-Wan said, snarling again, nose scrunched in disgust. Fett had probably moved forward with his grooming/courting as much as he did because Obi-Wan had been polite. Seemed receptive. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Except Fett smiled back at Obi-Wan’s response, seemingly pleased and amused and fully in tune with what Obi-Wan meant. There wasn’t a single thing about how Jango Fett looked at him that indicated he was out of touch with the reality of the situation as he leaned down towards Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan leaned back, instincts deciding the more vulnerable position was worth the distance. He stopped himself when he got down to his elbows, right wrist chain sliding across his stomach, and Jango just leaned closer.

“Don’t worry, you’ll reintegrate soon enough. Welcome back, ner kad’au,” Jango said, looking as pleased as the loth-cat who got the cream.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but freeze as Jango’s hand held his chin still and the man moved in for kiss, eyes threatening to spill tears.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.


End file.
